Remembering Stephen « bohemian spirit

lapsus calumni
sub rosa

Trust me
It's Paradise
This is where the hungry come to feed
For mine is a generation that circles the globe
in search of something we haven't tried before
so never refuse an invitation
never resist the unfamiliar
never fail to be polite
and never outstay your welcome
just keep your mind open and
suck in the experience
and if it hurts
you know what... it's probably worth it
you hope, and you dream
but you never believe that
something is going to happen for you
not like it does in the movies
and when it actually does
you expect it to feel different
more visirale
more real
i was waiting for it to hit me
i still believe in paradise
but now at least i know it's not some place you can look for
cause it's not where you go
it's how you feel for a moment in your life
and if you find that moment it lasts forever



Message

odi et amo, quare id facere forasse requiris... nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior

Tiny Dancer

Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand
Jesus freaks out in the street Handing tickets out for God Turning back she just laughs The boulevard is not that bad
Piano man he makes his stand In the auditorium Looking on she sings the songs The words she knows the tune she hums
But oh how it feels so real Lying here with no one near Only you and you can hear me When I say softly slowly
Hold me closer tiny dancer Count the headlights on the highway Lay me down in sheets of linen you had a busy day today
Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand

There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart's desire. The other is to gain it.

George Bernard Shaw

Love's secret verily no one man knows,
Though each in lore of loving deem his wise;
Love's like a meadow all aflower with spring,
But in the shadow autumn waiting lies,
And the wise bird is half afraid to sing
A vanished song unto a vanished rose.

HAFIZ, a power strange to touch the heart
Of late hath stolen subtly in thy song,
Though thy firm reed unwonted pathos blows;
Her praise it is, and no new touch of art,
That gives this grace of tears unto thy song.

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